


Two Hundred Songs

by Peskychloe



Series: Haikyuu!! Skaters [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Missing Persons, Past Drug Addiction, Relapsing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-15 06:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11800527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peskychloe/pseuds/Peskychloe
Summary: "Chikara tries to paper over the cracks in the way he connects with people usually, tries to be more forthcoming with his feelings. He's listened to Yuuji explain how he thinks, and he kind of gets it, even though he can never fully understand. He definitely does what he can with what Yuuji lets him have.He starts to worry when there's still no reply but reminds himself this isn't the first time Yuuji has gone silent, and it won't be the last."





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelabours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelabours/gifts).



> Please check tags for warnings, but this involves a relapse of a drug addiction.

9am

As he ends the call, he feels the familiar excitement. There's not long to wait until he can see him. He works out it's ten hours until he'll pick him up from work, and then feels like a teenager for working out that's six hundred minutes, which is only two hundred songs.

Keiji catches him smiling at his phone, and rolls his eyes, but fondly. He was the same with Koutarou, still is, to be honest. Chikara just grins back and starts playing the songs that will accompany him until he gets back to Yuuji.

  
  


1pm

His phone buzzes, and he expects his usual lunchtime message from Yuuji. Instead, it's a short text, telling him he can't see him until the next day. He asks why not, but there's no response. He waits for the entirety of his thirty-minute break – nine songs, something long by Muse shuffles in and breaks his average – before sending another shorter message, telling him it's fine, of course, he'll just miss him.

He gets no response and assumes he has an appointment.

  
  


7pm

By the time he gets home from work, he's heard one hundred and seventy-eight songs. He decides to stop listening to music, saving the other twenty-two for the bus ride to Histon. He even creates a playlist of the ones he wants to hear, including lots of the songs he would listen to before nights out when he was younger, or things from old mix-tapes Keiji made for him.

He leaves the playlist one song short because he wants to listen to that one with Yuuji. He listened to it the other day, and it reminded him of Yuuji so much, he wants him to hear it. He thinks it might help with their emotional connection, show he's thinking of him when they're not together. If it could be 'their song', for want of a better, less overused phrase, perhaps Yuuji could play it when he's feeling bad.

He tries to paper over the cracks in the way he connects with people usually, tries to be more forthcoming with his feelings. He's listened to Yuuji explain how he thinks, and he kind of gets it, even though he can never fully understand. He definitely does what he can with what Yuuji lets him have.

  
  


11pm

He decides to get an early night, so he can get a good night's sleep, and be in Histon as early as possible. He texts Yuuji saying good night, signing off with how much he loves him, and how he's looking forward to the next day.

He starts to worry when there's still no reply but reminds himself this isn't the first time Yuuji has gone silent, and it won't be the last.

 


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuji's experiences are based on mine, my brother's and various friends. I'm sorry if they seem OOC or incorrect. If you haven't read the story before this point, Yuuji has an addictive personality because of BPD, which is likely due to emotional trauma as a child. As such, the actions depicted in here are real to me, as far as my experience with mental health/addiction go, but I'm also very aware that everyone isn't the same.

6am

After a fitless night's sleep, Chikara wakes with a start from a dream about a pile of papers he has to file, which never gets any smaller. The first thing he does is check his phone, but there's still no reply.

He opens up Instagram, a rare gesture, and checks the feeds for Yuuji's two work colleagues. Perhaps they went out after work. Bobata has a new photo of him and Futamata from the night before. They're together, but Yuuji isn't there, so Chikara assumes he took the photograph. He's probably sleeping off a late night, maybe it was someone's birthday; that would explain everything, from cancelling on him suddenly, to the lack of any response.

He tries to go back to sleep, but can't, so he watches some film reviews on YouTube until he knows the water will be hot enough for a shower.

  
  


10am

He usually gets a later bus, but as he was dressed and ready to go by eight, he walked into town to catch an earlier one. He's still tired, so he's happy to see this bus terminates in Histon, he can nap and not miss his stop. He settles against the window and restarts his playlist after listening to it on the walk.

There are exactly ten songs left, which should fill the thirty-minute journey perfectly. He isn't sure if Yuuji will meet him at the bus stop, but he fires off a text with the time he'll arrive, and saying that if he isn't there to meet him, he'll go to the house. He tells him to text back if he's too early, or any of this isn't okay, but there's no response.

The ten songs run down. He'll see him soon.

  
  


10.35am

He isn't at the bus stop. The playlist finishes halfway through his walk to the house, and he pulls out the headphones instead of starting another song.

His steps speed up.

  
  


10.43am

There's no answer at the door.

  
  


10.45am

None of the doors or windows are open. It's November, so that's not unusual. But then he can't see anything through the windows, as all the curtains are drawn.

He tries ringing Yuuji's mobile, and listens at the window of the bedroom, but can't hear any ringing. He walks to each of the other ground floor windows, and can't hear anything through any of them either.

He walks and looks up at the balcony, but the French doors and their curtains are also closed. He shouts up, but can't hear any shout back or movement.

All he can hear is his heartbeat speeding up, and the blood in his ears thrumming.

  
  


11am

Chikara thanks the gods for smartphones and the internet as he manages to find the number for the hairdresser, and they're open.

“Hello? Bobata? It's Chikara. Sorry to bother you.”

“Hey! No problem at all! Everything alright?”

“I'm at Yuuji's and he's not answering the door. What time were you out until last night?”

There's a pause. It's too long. “He wasn't with us. Was he not with you?”

“No.”

“He told us he was meeting you.”

“He told me he couldn't see me until today.”

Bobata doesn't speak, but there's a sound like he might be covering the mouthpiece. He hears a muffled voice in the background, but it's indistinct. "Haru hasn't heard from him either. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, he might just be having a hard time. But let me try calling him. We have an agreement, he has to answer me if I text him a certain word. Give me a few minutes, and I'll call back."

“Please, yeah. I'll stay near the house. Just in case.”

Chikara wants a cigarette, even though he hasn't smoked one since he was sixteen. He runs to the newsagent at the corner and runs back with a packet of Marlboro Gold and a lighter.

  
  


11.30am

Chikara is stubbing out his second cigarette when his phone rings.

“Chikara?”

“Yes! Did he answer?”

“No.”

He suddenly feels sick, and it's not the cigarettes. “What does this mean?”

“It's...not great. I don't know how much you know.”

"A little. Not everything. I know you both have arrangements and stuff. It's in his Wellness thing."

“I'm glad he showed you his WRAP. Can you remember any of it?”

“I have a copy. It's at home though. Shit. I never thought...fuck, I'm rubbish at this.”

Bobata's voice is gentle as he says, “You're doing fine. You did the right thing ringing me. Can you hang tight there until I can get to you with the spare key?”

“You have a key for the house?”

He sighs as he says, "Yeah." Of course, he does. Chikara is sure there's a key to Bobata's house somewhere in Yuuji's house too, he just didn't want to think of the implications.

“Thanks. Yeah. I'll wait here in case he comes out. Or comes home. Or whatever.”

“I'll get a taxi, I won't be long.”

  
  


12pm

The taxi finally pulls up, and he swears there's already a small patch of grass worn away from his pacing backwards and forwards. Despite not really taking any drags from them, he's smoked his way through the whole packet of cigarettes. They were mainly just something to hold in his hand as he waited.

“Hey,” is all Bobata says as he goes straight for the front door.

The cigarette packet is already screwed up in his hand, and his finger absent-mindedly flicks the lighter. He dances around behind Bobata waiting for the door to be unlocked.

As he opens it, he turns and says to Chikara, “I know you're worried, but you need to wait here.” He puts a hand on Chikara's shoulder when he sees the panic growing in his eyes. “Please. Trust me.”

  
  


12.10pm

After the longest ten minutes of his life, Bobata returns, with only a book.

“The good news is, he's not home.” It takes a moment for Chikara to process why this is good news, but when he has, he starts to cry. “You're safe to come in. I put the kettle on, let's talk.”

  
  


12.15pm

Chikara sits on the sofa, hugging a pillow, while Bobata moves around the flat. His actions are fluid, rehearsed. He's been here before, and it's not paralysing him in the way it is Chikara.

He hears him on the phone, but can't track the whole conversation. It sounds like he's talking to Futamata. He can't concentrate.

He's remembering the times he's sat on this sofa with Yuuji. The times Yuuji has held him and told him he loves him, and he's just said, “I know.”

The time Yuuji made love to him, and he was propped up on the very pillow he's holding. For some reason, he feels guilty for coming first that day, as if that's why Yuuji is missing right now. If only he'd done something different, maybe this wouldn't be happening.

He cries into the pillow.

  
  


12.30pm

“Can I touch you?”

Chikara looks up to see Bobata holding a cup of tea. “What?”

“I'm just checking if you're okay with physical contact.”

“Yeah, fine.” He doesn't really understand, but he takes the cup of tea and tastes it. It's milky and far too sweet, but he drinks it all anyway. The warm feeling in his throat helps.

“So. We need to establish when everyone last heard from him. He left work at seven to say he was meeting you. When did you last hear from him?”

He doesn't even need to get his phone out, he's re-read the last text so many times. “Twelve minutes past one.”

“Right. So last contact was seven, when he left us. If he's not back by seven tonight, we have to call the police.”

Chikara can't hold in a wailing, “No.”

“I know this is hard, but we have to have a plan.” He touches Chikara's shoulder, and the asking for permission makes sense. “If it helps, this isn't the first time he's done this. He always rings or comes back before we have to call the police.”

This does help Chikara, who nods into the pillow.

“One time he walked to Nottingham, and slept up a tree.”

Chikara snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. The police called _us_ that time." He drinks his own tea, and Chikara checks his phone, just in case he missed a vibration. He turns the ringer back on and whacks the volume up to full so he won't miss anything.

“What's in Nottingham?”

“University friend. Don't worry, I'll be calling him.” He holds up the small black book he was holding before. “I'm going to take his address book with me.”

“You're going?” he says, chin trembling.

He places a hand on his knee. “I have to go and check the old haunts with Haru. If he doesn't show up there, then we'll call around out of town.”

Chikara pulls his knees closer to his chest. “Of course.”

“I think you should stay here, but I don't think you should be alone.” He gets his phone out. “Who should I call?”

“Keiji.”

“Can I have his number? Tell you what,” he says, seeing Chikara's blank face as he looks up, “Let me have your phone, and I'll get it. I'll put it in mine, so I have it.”

He passes his phone over and wipes his face on the cushion. "Sorry. I am listening. It's just a lot."

“I know.” He touches him again, before getting up and going out of the French doors.

He watches him on the phone. Every now and again, he looks at Chikara, checking on him. He thinks about standing on the balcony with Yuuji holding his hand, or the time they cooked fish on a disposable barbecue and ate it sitting on a towel.

He wipes his eyes, as Bobata comes back into the room. He attempts to hide his actions, but Bobata just says, “Keiji's on the way.” He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on again. “Have you eaten anything?”

Chikara shakes his head. He'd planned to make a big brunch for them, so he only had coffee at home. He laughs as he remembers the Babybel he ate before it turns into a small sob.

Bobata returns with another sweet tea, and the biscuit tin. It's blue and covered in small white horses, and is so out of place, he wonders where it came from. Inside there are Jammy Dodgers and Pink Wafers, childhood biscuits. He takes a Happy Face, and dips it in his tea, before thanking Bobata.

“There's plenty of good signs, okay? The house is clean and tidy for a start.”

“Sorry?”

“If this was brewing for a while, the house would be in a state. This is a short, sharp shock, I reckon. I'd say he's had a slip.” When he notices Chikara's confusion, he explains, “He's taken some drugs.”

“What sort?”

“Well, I don't know, but it was usually coke.”

Chikara nods, remembering him mentioning cocaine before.

“Look. I have to ask. Are things okay with you?”

“Yeah. Well. I thought so, but...” His eyes prickle again, and he looks at his biscuit, mocking him.

Bobata squeezes his knee. “He's incredibly happy with you, you know.”

“I know.” The words are too charged with meaning, and he starts to sob. “God. I love him so much. I should have told him more. He knew, right?”

“He _knows_ ,” Bobata corrects him. “I only meant, you didn't have a row or anything?”

Chikara shakes his head. “Nothing like it. We spoke first thing yesterday. He was excited about the weekend.” He thinks back to the phone call, the plans they'd made about what they'd do, things he could tell Bobata if the words would only come. Whispered promises he can't repeat because they're no one else's business. “We've been together six months, we were going to...celebrate.”

"Must be something else." His phone buzzes, and he picks it up immediately. "Hello? Hey, Haru. On my way." He turns back to Chikara. "I have to go, he's here. I'll keep you updated."

"Same," he replies, watching him run out the door. He looks out the French windows and sees Bobata getting into the back of a car. In the front seat is Futamata, but he doesn't recognise the floppy-haired driver, who looks much shorter than the other two.

  
  


1pm

Keiji arrives, with a take-out bag. Chikara tries to give him money for the taxi fare, but he calls him a nob and passes him some noodles. He won't eat them, but he makes a performance out of looking like he is. Keiji will end up eating both portions.

“I know you don't want to eat. But you have to.”

“I've had something.”

“Don't lie, Chika. Have a dumpling. For me.”

He surrenders and eats one. It tastes like rubber in his mouth, all texture and no taste, so he leaves the rest. It satisfies Keiji, anyway.

"I made a plan in the taxi." He pulls out a notebook, and there are names written down the left-hand side. "We need to ring these people and ask them to keep an eye out. I've put a star next to the ones I think you should ring yourself, but I'm going to help, of course."

Chikara takes it off him and reads through the names. There are stars next to Kenma, Daichi, Tadashi, Noya, Ryuu. Other names include Suga, Eita, Iwaizumi from the cafe, and a few other people who work at the magazine.

“I can manage those, I think.”

“Start with the hardest. Daichi probably? I also wrote a little script for if you can't think straight.” He turns over the paper and finds a paragraph, with revisions and added sections, which is then written out more neatly underneath.

Keiji's organisation and calmness under pressure bring him to tears again. "Thank you."

“Before you start, go to the loo, have a wash, get some air on the balcony. Don't rush yourself. The three of them are out there looking for him.”

"Who was that driving?" he asks, moving the food from the table to lay out his papers.

“Tsuchiyu. He was in the recovery group with them all too. They have an agreement to work together, Bobata said, if one of them falls off the wagon.” Keiji was also told it's usually Yuuji they have to drag back onto the wagon, but he doesn't share that with Chikara.

  
  


1.50pm

He follows his orders and goes to the bathroom. His reflection shows him how pale he is, except his eyes which are bloodshot and sunken. He sits on the closed toilet for a while, breathing deeply; he leans to the right to pick up Yuuji's aftershave, sniffing the atomiser. If he'd run away for good, he would have taken this, he thinks, and it makes him feel happier. He's coming back at some point.

But then he considers the other reason it's still there, and the sobbing begins again.

  
  


2pm

There are five hours until they have to call the Police. Five hours to track him down. He feels like they're in a situation room, surrounded by their papers, both with phones, and an A-Z which Keiji found on a shelf somewhere. The biscuits are still there, and some bottles of water.

“Where's Bokuto today? Have I ruined your day?”

“He's at home, but you haven't ruined anything.” He looks at him, in a way that he'd usually call him a dick or a twat or some other insult, but today he just smiles weakly. “You needed me more.”

“I did. I do. Thank you.”

Keiji starts the phone calls on his list. He tells Chikara that Bokuto has already called the members of his band as well as Small Giant; they're all just being told to keep an eye out for him, not any other details, or even that he's missing. Only Bokuto knows how serious it is, and even then he doesn't know about Yuuji's past.

He steels himself and rings Daichi. After he answers, Chikara reads his script.

“Hey, Daichi. I'm just wondering if you've seen or heard anything of Yuuji today. I know you don't know him very well, but I was expecting to see him today, and I haven't. Even if you haven't, but you do after this phone call, please call me immediately.” He tries to not sound wooden, but when he's finished, he realises he maybe should have split the paragraph, and let Daichi answer before asking the rest.

“Chikara. What's going on? Are you okay?”

He decides to just repeat some of the paragraph. “Have you seen or heard anything of Yuuji today?”

“I haven't, no.”

“Could you tell me if you do.” He hangs up before he can answer.

Keiji is staring at him, so he apologises, and drinks some water.

"You did very well. Considering." His phone rings. He looks unsurprised as he answers it "Ah, hello Daichi... Yes, he's here with me, don't worry...Yeah... Yeah... I know... No, it's fine... I'll let you know about Monday." He hangs up and crosses out Daichi's name on their list.

“What was that?”

“He was just checking you weren't on your own 'cause you sounded really weird. He said you can have Monday off if you need it.”

Chikara rubs his eye with a knuckle. “This is fucking horrible.”

"Do Noya next. With any luck, he's with Ryuu."

Noya is much easier. He tries without the script, and similar words stutter jumbled from his mouth. He understands what he's asking, but has no clues, although he does offer to ring Ryuu for him.

Chikara crosses out the two names and prepares to call Tadashi. He isn't sure who Keiji is talking to, but he tries not to listen to him before the words, "We haven't heard from Yuuji," mean nothing any more. Or maybe he wants them to mean nothing, maybe it would be easier.

He busies himself ringing Tadashi. He sounds so worried, Chikara immediately feels guilty. As he starts to reflexively apologise, Keiji kicks him and puts a finger to his lips, cutting him short.

Once they're both off their phones, Keiji says, “You don't have to be sorry.”

For some reason, he decides to phone Kenma from the balcony. Maybe it's because he knows Kenma likes as few people around as possible, maybe it's just because he can't hear Keiji asking anyone else that same question.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kenma, sorry. I know you hate the phone, but this is important.”

"I know. Otherwise, you wouldn't have called, right?"

“Exactly. Look. Urm. Yuuji's missing. If you see him, you'll call me, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

They both hang up. He knew this call would be the easiest. Kenma is the only one who didn't ask any questions, just accepted that Yuuji was missing. He looks over his shoulder, sees Keiji still on the phone, and continues holding the phone to his own face, so he looks occupied.

He looks out into Histon, a village that's become so familiar to him. He knows the way to the corner shop, he knows where the postbox is. The other day someone asked him the way to the windmill, and he could tell them.

He belongs here, Yuuji belongs here.

He belongs with Yuuji.

  
  


4pm

It takes two hours to ring everyone. A few people say they'll call other people, including Suga and Eita – who are together, even in his grief he can be happy about that – who say they'll talk to Tendou and Reon and a few other names he's never heard before. Suga even offers to join them, but Keiji turns him down.

“It's fine, I'm here,” he says simply, and Chikara is eternally grateful. He can't handle Suga at the minute.

Once it's done, they have a list of who they've called, who those people will try and contact. A few people say when they saw him, but it's all before Friday at six. There's an unspoken hypothesis that if they can work out what happened just before one, they'll find him. Something made him cancel seeing Chikara, but there are no clues as to what.

“Do you think I should have a look around the house? Or is that prying?”

Keiji thinks, lips drawn tight. “I think it's too soon for that. It's less than a day. If he hasn't shown up by tomorrow, though, I think, yes, for sure.” He takes a deep breath. “Would it be alright if I Skype Kou?”

“Yeah, yeah, 'course. We've done all we can.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't... I don't know.”

“Do you think you could concentrate on a film? That would fill a couple of hours.”

“Maybe. Something I've already seen.”

"I brought a few of your favourites." He pulls a handful of Bluray discs from his bag and kneels in front of the PS4. "Which one?" he asks, splaying them in his hand like playing cards.

“Not Trainspotting. Not Amelie. Why did you bring Mean Girls?” As he rejects films, Keiji throws them to the floor. With only three left, he points to Reservoir Dogs, and Chikara nods.

The film starts playing, and Keiji brings over a blanket, tucking it around him. He then wanders back to his bag and pulls out a bottle of Cognac. He finds a mug in the kitchen from an earlier cup of tea, rinses it, and pours in some of the brandy, before placing it into Chikara's hands.

“Here. Maybe this will help you doze?”

As he walks away, Chikara grabs his hand. “Keiji? Would it be weird if... I asked you... Would you hold me for a while?”

Without answering, he sits next to him, and takes the mug to put on the table; he drags him into his lap, covering them both in the blanket. Chikara gives in to the tears he's been partially holding back all day.

“I can't believe no one's seen him,” he sobs into his chest.

“I know,” Keiji soothes, stroking his hair.

“I thought... _someone_ would have. That we'd have a lead. Nothing from the other three yet?”

He looks up hopefully, but Keiji just shakes his head. “It's not a day yet. Shhh.” He continues rubbing his back as Tim Roth gets dragged bleeding into a warehouse.

  
  


6pm

The two of them are woken by the door opening.

“Yuuji?” Chikara shouts hopefully, jumping up and disturbing the blanket nest on the sofa.

“Just us," Bobata says, leading the search party of three.

Chikara grabs his phone to check he hasn't missed anything, and seeing nothing, shouts with frustration. He removes himself and stands on the balcony.

He watches through the glass as Keiji talks to the three of them. They're all shaking their heads, flicking through their phones, adding notes to what the two of them have already written during the day.

The hopeless feeling overwhelms him, joined by guilt at falling asleep when he still isn't found. He sits on one of the chairs – the chairs they went and bought together when he suggested they have a patio set on the balcony – and leans back, rubbing his palms down his face.

When he looks back up, Tsuchiyu catches his eye and walks towards the doors. "Hey," he says, opening them a sliver. "Can I come out there? You smoke?"

Chikara shakes his head, then says, “Can I have one anyway?”

Tsuchiyu laughs, slips through the crack, and lights two cigarettes, passing one to Chikara. It doesn't help, not at all, and yet it sort of does.

“I'm Arata. Everyone calls me Tsucchi though. Sorry, we haven't met yet. I've been in The Canaries for a while."

“Oh, yeah, the one he goes to stay with?” 

Tsuchiyu nods, pulling a drag on the cigarette. “Not this year though. Too busy with you.” He smiles at him. “Best thing ever happened to him, you are.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“I'm not kidding. It's been... what, twelve months? Since he last disappeared. That's a record.”

“Really?” Chikara takes a much shorter drag, already regretting agreeing to smoke one.

Tsuchiyu nods, blowing out a stream of smoke, which curls around them. “Fuck yeah! Used to be once every two months. Not for long, just a night, two maybe. Not surprising really, what he's been through.”

“What do you do. Over there.”

“I work at a sports club, teaching volleyball mostly. Season's over, so I come home and work in bars. I move around a lot, sub in where I'm needed, ya know. Take up the slack.” He gets to the end of his cigarette, and stubs it out on the balcony railing, before depositing it into a plant pot. Seeing Chikara's expression, he apologises.

Chikara says, “It's not my house. I shouldn't be a dick about it.”

“S'ok. It's disgusting, I shouldn't do it." He picks it up and puts it back in his cigarette packet instead.

“Just...that's Yuuji's plant. He'd be upset.” His eyes start leaking again, and he angrily wipes them. “Fuck.”

“Hey, hey. It's alright to cry. S'all new, isn't it? We're used to it, that's all. He'll come back. He always does.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. But one day... he won't.”

“Not this time, though. There were times we thought he wouldn't, but he did. He's not a quitter. He'll keep going even if it looks hopeless. Damn, he tries to win even when the other team have match point! This time he's in the best shape ever. Don't worry, Chikara.”

He looks at Tsuchiyu, and can't help but return the smile he's giving him. There's a melancholy behind them both, but it's lifting for Chikara now Yuuji's friends have arrived. Not that he isn't grateful for Keiji, but he's all business, and just as clueless as he is.

“It's almost seven. We have to call the Police at seven, right?”

“We don't have to. But we probably should. Bobata checked all the hospitals already, by the way. He's not in any of them, so that's a great sign.”

“He's turned up in one before?”

“Oh yeah. They sectioned him once, another time he broke his arm falling off something, can't remember what. See-saw? Roundabout? No idea. We've checked he's not been arrested too.”

“I never would have...thank you all so much, I don't know what to say.”

“Hey, look. I know he's your boyfriend and everything, but we're not doing this for you. We're doing it for him. I hope that doesn't sound mean.”

“No, no. I get you.” He shakes himself, trying to rid his head of his own personal pity party. Tsuchiyu is right, it's not about him. He needs to pull himself together, for Yuuji's sake.

“C'mon." He stands up and pulls Chikara to his feet. "Let's have one last ring round, and then call them. You never know, we might strike lucky now the pubs are open."

  
  


7pm

They aren't lucky, but somehow it's easier being with these three. Keiji has been fantastic, but now he feels like he wants to be among people who know Yuuji better. He suggests to Keiji that he'll be okay now, he should go to Bokuto; he tries to insist on waiting until they've called the Police, but Chikara forces him to leave, promising to keep in touch.

Once he's gone, there's a sense of relief somehow, which he feels guilty about. Bobata comforts him by saying he understands exactly what he means. There's a camaraderie in the four of them, and they're more than happy to let Chikara join in.

Futamata hides the brandy and makes them all a warm drink with something powdered in Yuuji's cupboard. It's some sort of spiced apple tea, and he digs out cinnamon cookies from somewhere. He suddenly feels the warmth of people who know the man he loves as well, and he's not crying any more.

The clock ticks past seven, but he doesn't rush to use the phone. He trusts the others to lead him; they've been down this road before, they have the maps, they know all the dead ends. They take an hour to decompress after searching for him, and Chikara is more than happy to join in.

The weight of the day has left him dozy. He curls up on the sofa, and someone covers him with a blanket. He can hear them talking quietly in the background as he naps.

  
  


9pm

He wakes with a start as his phone rings. He grabs it, but it's only Keiji. He tries not to sound disappointed when he answers.

“Just checking in. Any news?”

He doesn't ask about the Police, and Chikara doesn't mention that he's been asleep. He still feels a bit guilty about how relaxed he got as soon as Keiji left. He tells him they've heard nothing, and says he'll text a few people just to spread the news that they're still looking for Yuuji. Keiji tells him to eat before he hangs up.

“Hey! You're awake. Want some curry?” Tsucchi holds a small bowl of chicken in a bright red sauce in front of his nose, and it smells delicious. He's suddenly ravenous.

As he shovels it in, he sticks a thumb up.

“We didn't want to wake you up,” Bobata says, “No point rushing to ring the Police. You needed to sleep. Been a long day.”

“What about you lot?”

Futamata stretches his arms out, flexing his fingers. “We slept last night. Don't think you did, eh?”

Chikara looks down and shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“S'alright. We all ate before.” Tsucchi smiles at him. “Did you know you snore?”

He nods as his mouth is bulging with rice. “Drives Yuuji mad.”

“Now you're awake, can we put music on or something?” Tsucchi starts to plug in the speakers, but Chikara stops him.

“No music. Is TV alright? Sorry, I can't really explain.”

Futamata waves a hand. “You don't need to. More your house than ours.”

“Don't know about that...”

“I think so, dude. You're going to live here, right?”

Chikara looks up at Bobata, but all three of them are looking at him, almost expectantly. “I... I don't know.”

“Yeah, you do,” Tsucchi says with a nudge. “You've got stuff here, you're moving in. Slowly.”

“He wants you to live here, you know," Bobata says as if it's nothing. "He told me the other day. Was talking about how it's six months and is that long enough, blah blah."

“Yeah, but he'd have let him move in after a week, right?"

“Oh, yeah! 'Course!” His two colleagues laugh amongst themselves, and Tsucchi looks as confused as Chikara.

“He talks about me at work?”

“All the fucking time.”

“What's he say?”

The two of them stop suddenly and look at each other, clearly deciding whether to say anything. The pause is long and loaded.

The tension gets to Tsucchi first. “C'mon! What's he say?”

Bobata gulps. “He says...you've given him something to live for.

“Fuck,” Tsucchi says quietly.

“That's how I know we don't have to worry so much this time,” Futamata joins in, “I mean, yeah, maybe he's lapsed. But he has hope this time.”

“I knew something good was happening! He always comes and recharges with me, but he said he didn't need it this year.” He nudges Chikara again. “You lucky son of a gun.”

Chikara is still stunned into silence. He looks between the three of them before settling on looking at his half-empty bowl.

“We'll find him, Chikara,” says Tsucchi, squeezing his shoulder. “We always do.”

  
  


10pm

They finally have the discussion about whether to call the Police now or in the morning. In the end, it's two against two as to whether to do so, Chikara and Tsucchi saying they should.

“But, as the two people who deal with him the most, I'd go with you if you insisted,” Tsucchi says.

“I'd let Chikara have final say, myself,” says Bobata. “He's not dealt with this before, it's hardest on him.”

“No, no. I trust you all.”

“What about we give it until midnight?

They all agree and carry on playing a stupid game where cars play football.

  
  


11.45pm

Chikara's phone rings. He jumps up, expecting Keiji, but once he sees who it is, he can't answer fast enough. For him to call, it has to be either the best or the worst news he can imagine.

“Hello?”

“I found him. He's safe, Chikara. He's here.”

He drops the phone, and all the tension leaves his body in huge gulping breaths and sobs.

Bobata picks up the phone and deals with the details, as Tsucchi and Futamata gather Chikara up, holding him between them, and make their way outside to the car. Bobata follows, still talking to Kenma.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WRAP is a Wellness Recovery Action Plan. Myself and my husband have one for different conditions, so it made sense that Yuuji would have one (and would have shown Chikara who has stored it safely and forgotten about it, more or less)


	3. Sunday

12.05am

The whole drive there, Chikara is silent. He's in the back-seat with Tsucchi, who's either taken a shine to him or is just the nicest person alive. He has an arm around him, rubbing his hand up and down his bicep, but not speaking at all. It's the best thing he could have chosen to do.

Bobata and Futamata mutter quietly in the front. He tries not to listen. They went to put music on to cover their talking, but he stopped them.

He refuses to listen to any music until he sees Yuuji again.

It makes little sense, but he worked out it would be two hundred songs until they were back together, and he'll be damned if he's not sticking to that; it seems like it would be bad luck to break that streak.

He couldn't explain that to them all before; he had to invent rules so he could choose not to count the background music of games as songs.

They pull up at a hard shoulder; it says no parking, but it's after midnight, and this is surely an emergency.

He's terrified, but he reminds himself, again, that it's not about him, or how frightened he is to see Yuuji in this state. The desire to see him and not to see him battle, and he can't move.

Tsucchi has to help Chikara out of the car. He's got a winter coat, from somewhere, Chikara has no idea, so he wraps it around him. It's way too big, but it stops him shivering. He didn't even realise he was.

His new friend props him up as they walk slowly towards the skate park. It's only the next day he'll realise someone else was driving his car so Tsucchi could comfort him.

  


12.10am

They see Hinata first, his ginger hair glowing in the light from a nearby lamp-post. He's biting a nail, holding his phone and looking around.

Chikara can't speak but then realises the other three don't know him. "Shouyou," he croaks.

“Hmm?” Tsucchi looks at him, and Chikara points, and says the name again. “Oh! Shouyou! Over here!”

Hinata runs up, and it's weird seeing him without a smile. “Hi.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Over there.”

Bobata stands in front of Chikara and puts his hands on his shoulders. "I know you want to see him, but let me go first. Shouyou?" he says with a questioning tone, looking at Hinata, who nods, "Shouyou will stay here and tell you what happened. Okay?" he looks again to Hinata, who nods again. His face is ashen.

Bobata runs over to the broken skate ramp. There's no wonder Kenma was the one to find him; that ramp is where he hides on Saturdays, and obviously, in the evenings it's where he takes Hinata for privacy.

“We went out,” Hinata starts, “And on the walk back, we thought we'd stop here for a bit. Just, you know. Stuff.” He looks a little embarrassed but carries on. “So we went under the ramp, but there was someone there. Kenma went fuck and I thought he was surprised, ya know, cause it was a tramp, but then he went over and moved some leaves and stuff and I knew it was a friend or something. Not a tramp.”

“A tramp?”

“Only cause he was lying in a pile of leaves! Then when he started speaking Japanese, I knew he must know him. I've never heard him speak Japanese. I dunno what he said, but I heard your name, and then Kenma turned and told me it was your boyfriend. That's when he called you.”

“What's been going on since then?” Futamata asks.

Hinata shrugs. "No idea. He told me to come and look out for you. They've been talking. In Japanese, I think."

“Japanese?” Chikara asks, looking to Futamata.

He sighs. “Sometimes he stops speaking English. It's a way of distancing himself from people when he thinks he's fucked up.” He looks at Tsucchi. “That's a good sign, though, right? Sounds like he's ashamed.”

“Why is that a good sign?”

“It's the difference between a slip and a relapse. If he's embarrassed, he's sober, and if he's sober, that means he isn't on a bender.”

“You don't speak Japanese?” Tsucchi asks. When Chikara shakes his head, he says, “That'll be why. Sounds like he thinks he's let you down.”

“Fuck. I have to go over there and see him,” he pleads, “I have to tell him he hasn't.”

“He won't listen, yet. Please, wait for Kazu, or you could make things worse.”

“Fuck,” he says again. He can't understand what's going on, but he can't afford to worsen it. He strains to look over, but it's too dark under the ramp, he can't even see Bobata any more.

Tsucchi pulls him into a hug as they wait. He suspects it's to stop him trying to see anything.

  


12.20am

He doesn't speak while Bobata is gone. He just thinks.

He thinks about fingers in his hair, soothing him as they watch a film together.

He thinks about the way he laughs, throaty and deep, against his neck. The way his voice becomes high pitched with delight whenever they see someone out walking a dog. Especially that bloody beagle. How it becomes soft as he whispers Chikara's name against his skin while they make love.

He thinks about the harsh lines of his face when he's troubled; his jawline stiffens, and his brow furrows, and Chikara will trace his fingers along them to try and smooth them again, to get back the man he loves.

There are promises to be fulfilled, plans to be carried out. They have tickets for a concert, Yuuji doesn't even know about those yet, somehow he managed to keep it secret. He doesn't even know there's a bottle of his favourite elderflower drink in the fridge waiting for their anniversary.

He wants to tell him all this, but he can't. Not yet.

So he waits and he thinks.

  


12.30am

Kenma finally comes over. He goes straight to Chikara and doesn't waste time.

“Okay, so we're going to take him to the hospital.” Seeing how panic-stricken this makes Chikara, he says, “He's fine, but we want to get him checked over. He's been outside for a long time, and he's confused and dehydrated. But he's fine, Chikara, you don't need to worry any more.”

“Can I see him yet?” sounds like a ridiculous question. There are no walls between them, or locked doors, he's a prisoner only of himself.

“I...don't know. Wait for his friend to come back.”

Futamata walks over to the ramp, and Tsucchi tightens his arm around Chikara again. They all wait.

A couple of minutes later, Bobata comes back over. “Chikara. You can go over. But be ready. You haven't seen him like this. Okay?” He takes his hand. “Come on.”

The walk to the ramp takes forever. The song he wanted to play Yuuji comes uninvited to mind.

He struggles to hold onto the image of Yuuji, standing next to him on the balcony in the setting sun, hands clasped and looking out at the windmill.

  


("I'm not good enough for you."

“Shut up.”

“It's true. You love me now, but you haven't seen me at my worst.”

“Oh, I love you, do I? Who says?”

"You. I have proof. Plus you always say it in bed."

“I'm either tired or in a sex haze in bed.”

“Doesn't mean it's not true.”

“Okay, okay. I love you.”

“I know.”)

  


Yuuji is still sitting on the leaves. His legs are bent, feet flat on the floor, arms wrapped around them. He can't see his face, it's resting on his knees, but his hair is untidy. Chikara gets the urge to run his fingers through it to make it neater but resists. He has on a red hooded top, which looks like it might belong to Kenma as he notices some long blonde hairs on it.

Futamata is already sitting next to him, with about a foot between them. Bobata lets go of his hand, and touches his shoulder; he waits and watches him go over and crouch next to Yuuji.

When he lifts his head, Chikara stops himself from letting out any sound, worried it'll be a gasp or a sob or a curse.

His face doesn't look that different, and yet he's unrecognisable. His eyes, which usually reflect any tiny specks of light they can, are flat, matt circles like dry dirt. His mouth is a completely neutral line, it's not even a frown or grimace, there's nothing there. The only colour is the deep shadows under his eyes, purple from crying, or lack of sleep, probably both.

Chikara is overwhelmed with love but somehow manages to hold back.

He can't hear what they're saying, but he hears his name. Yuuji closes his eyes, nods slowly, and puts his head back on his knees.

Bobata turns and beckons him over. Chikara takes his place, crouching in front of Yuuji. Futamata moves further away; they're all giving them space, but Chikara has no idea how to fill it.

What the fuck does he say?

“Hey.”

Yuuji flinches at the sound but doesn't look up.

“Can I come with you? To the hospital?”

He nods.

“Can I touch you?”

This time he shrugs. Chikara takes that as, “If you want to,” so he stretches out and squeezes his fingers. Because he _does_ want to, more than anything. He contents himself with this much.

Yuuji looks up, and it's still a shock, but there's more there now than before. Tears are bubbling, but the flood brings life to his eyes again.

He holds his gaze but doesn't speak. Everything is fragile, their web growing but threatened by the weight of mistakes.

Yuuji's hand moves and covers Chikara's, and the intertwining of their fingers strengthens the trust building.

Chikara has learnt a few Japanese phrases in his lifetime, the usual things people living in mixed race families pick up; he knows how to greet people, can count to ten, order a beer, swear in five ways. He also learnt one he's never used, but now seems the right time to say it.

_“Ai shiteru.”_

He's never heard the reply Yuuji uses, but he knows exactly what it means anyway.

“ _Wakatteru.”_

  


10am

Keiji wakes him with a gentle shoulder shake and puts a takeaway coffee in front of his face. "Hey."

Chikara had texted to let him know they found him from the car and then again much later to tell him he'd appreciate a lift home with Yuuji, if at all possible. The other three had left around four, at Yuuji's request, once they knew he was physically okay. Chikara had stayed, dozing in the chair as Yuuji slept soundly under the influence of some kind of sedative.

He looks over, and as he's still sound asleep, he turns back to Keiji to thank him.

“You look tired,” he says, sipping his own coffee.

“Yeah. It's been a long night.” He fills Keiji in on what happened, although there are still plenty of details he doesn't know himself yet.

The doctors had told them he really didn't need anything except a good night's sleep but told them they were right to check. He was a little dehydrated, nothing more, not physically anyway. He told them to make sure he saw his therapist or went to a recovery group, to get back on track so it didn't develop into anything more serious. Otherwise, the hospital had been happy to say he could leave once he awoke.

Keiji takes his hand and says, “He's going to be okay.”

“He is. I'm going to take the week off work and stay with him. If he lets me.”

“I'm sure he will.”

Chikara rubs the back of his neck. “It's been...eye-opening.”

“How so?”

He sighs, a little over dramatically, and then laughs a little at himself. “I just love him so fucking much, Keiji. When I thought...” His sentence trails off and they both know what the missing words are. “...I didn't think I could cope.”

“I can't imagine how it must have felt. I'd feel much the same if Kou disappeared.” He drinks some coffee before continuing. “He said he's never been as desperate as that. He really feels for Yuuji. We should spend more time together. The four of us.”

“Definitely. Maybe you could come over for dinner next weekend?”

Keiji looks at him sideways, one eyebrow raised. “Where are you inviting us over to, exactly? You live in the same house as me.”

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles.

“Oh, I think I do.”

  


11am

With an intake of breath and a clear of his throat, Yuuji wakes up.

Keiji excuses himself, and Chikara leans forward in his seat, elbows on knees, hands clasped.

Yuuji blinks from the bright light, turns to the side, and the first things he sees is Chikara saying, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

He looks back up at the ceiling. “Uh-huh.”

“Keiji's going to take us ho – to yours. That alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm going to stay if that's okay?”

“Sure.”

He stands up and stretches out his thighs. He's been a couple of hours in the same chair and feels as stiff as this conversation. “I'll go get him. We can go as soon as you're ready.”

He starts walking out, but Yuuji stops him. “Chika?”

“Yes, love?”

“Chika, I'm so sor -”

“Shh, we can talk later. Let's get you home.” He rubs a thumb across Yuuji's cheek, setting off the first inklings of a smile.

  


11.30am

Keiji brings the car round to the main door of the hospital, pulling it into a taxi space. Chikara leads Yuuji quickly by the hand and they both jump into the back. They sit in the same position as he did with Tsucchi in his car, and he can't believe that was less than twelve hours ago.

With his arm around him, he rubs Yuuji through the red hooded top he's still wearing. Yuuji holds his head stiffly for a while, until giving in and letting it drop onto Chikara, who kisses the side of his temple. It's the first kiss since he found him, and he can finally believe things are going to be alright.

He isn't sure how long it'll take, but they have plenty of time.

  


1pm

After his shower, Chikara tries insisting he'll sleep in the spare room, but Yuuji won't allow it. He demands they both go and sleep for the rest of Sunday, and one of his conditions is that Chikara stays with him.

Yuuji takes his turn in the bathroom, and Chikara calls a few people to let them know he found Yuuji. He tells some more details than others and rings Keiji once more to thank him for the lift. He'd also put together a few of Chikara's things in a holdall, and as he fishes out a clean shirt to put on, he's grateful as always to have Keiji in his life.

“Want some music on?” Yuuji asks, walking out of the shower, with a towel around his waist and one on his shoulders. With each ablution, he looks more like himself again.

Chikara takes the towel from his shoulders and drapes it over his head instead. “In a minute. Let me sort you out.”

He rubs the towel against his hair, before sitting him down to comb it out. As he works it through the knots, he doesn't ask anything. It can wait. There's no rush for anything except to make him feel cared for and safe.

“Are you hungry? I have pancake stuff in the fridge.”

He shakes his head, dislodging some of the hair that's been smoothed back. “Not right now. Know what I'd _really_ like?”

“What?”

He turns on the seat, looks up at Chikara, and finally smiles. “A Cornetto.”

He tucks his hair behind his ears. “Let me go get one.” He pecks him on the nose, and Yuuji goes to get dressed.

When he gets back from the corner shop, with three flavours of Cornetto because he couldn't decide which one he'd prefer, he finds Yuuji lying face down on top of the duvet, wearing just boxers and a t-shirt and fast asleep.

He puts the ice cream in the freezer and brings back the duvet from the other bedroom, draping it over Yuuji's sleeping form. He lies about a foot away from him under the cover, stroking the straggly hairs at the back of his neck. After a few minutes, Yuuji turns onto his side and faces him, a sleepy smile in his half opened eyes. Chikara's hand stays on his neck, and he rubs his ear with his thumb.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Not judging me.”

“Ah. Okay.” He wants to put his arms around him, but he hesitates not knowing if that's what Yuuji wants as well.

“Can I, urm, ya know.” Yuuji is uncharacteristically quiet and nervous as he speaks. “Can I hug you?”

Chikara reaches out and pulls him into his chest; their arms wrap around each other and Chikara takes a chance and kisses him, before tucking his head into his neck. He smells like his aftershave, he must have put some on after his shower, and Chikara takes in a deep breath. Yuuji grasps the back of his head, pushing him closer as if it were possible.

They end up crying against each other until they fall asleep for the rest of the day.

  


10pm

Chikara untangles himself from Yuuji and the duvets – logging the phrase as he does so as a good band name. He stands up, checking he hasn't woken him, then stroking his hair out of his eyes anyway, which causes him to stir. He retracts his hand quickly and holds his breath, but Yuuji settles back into the pillow. Chikara smiles.

He checks the time and wonders if it's too late for pancakes, and decides to see what else is in the fridge instead. He sees the bag of the shopping on the floor and realises Keiji must have put the brunch things in the fridge the day before. He finds the smoked salmon and cream cheese neatly stacked on a shelf, the elderflower drink in the fridge door, and the bagels still in his tote bag. There's also a portion of the chicken curry with a post-it note on it saying, "Don't forget to eat," in Keiji's handwriting; he was in the house for about five minutes when he brought them back, and Chikara is once again floored by how calm his best friend stayed in the crisis.

He wonders how long it'll be until Yuuji will want to go out for that double date, and vows that he'll treat Bokuto and Keiji as a thank you when they do.

The bagels go in the toaster, and he contemplates coffee, deciding against it. It may feel like the morning but it's nearly the end of the day, again.

“Chikara?” Yuuji shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

"Up here!" He prepares a plate with the salmon and cheese, by which time the bagels are ready. He piles it all on a tray with the cold drink and some glasses and wonders if it's too cold on the balcony.

“Yuuji?” he shouts back down the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Where do you want to eat?”

“Balcony!”

“Better bring some blankets then,” he mutters.

Yuuji hardly ever gets cold and loves to sit on the balcony. It's why Chikara insisted on the patio set in the first place. Because he was sick of eating off his knees while sitting on the floor. They had an argument in the middle of the shop about whether to get metal or wood chairs. Yuuji insisted on getting a striped parasol even though there isn't a hole in the centre of the table; Chikara pointed this out, but then was still faced with a pouting Yuuji once they got home and he realised what the lack of a hole meant.

He finds the citronella candles and lights them, despite there being no flies, and lays the food on the table. It looks romantic, and he's suddenly concerned it's strange to have a candlelit outside brunch at 11 pm in November, especially after the last couple of days.

He feels a blanket thrown on him from behind, and a giggle, before Yuuji flops into his chair with a blanket around his shoulders. He's still only wearing a t-shirt and boxers, and Chikara tries not to ogle his bare legs.

“Careful, I'm near naked flames.”

“What're you doing, Chika? This is so weird,” he says as he looks at the bottle. “Ooh, you got my favourite.”

It's like the last thirty-six hours haven't happened, and Chikara doesn't know whether he's meant to try and forget them or not. He wants to but feels he probably shouldn't, so in the end, he decides to follow Yuuji's lead.

“Happy anniversary,” he says, dipping to kiss him.

He feels Yuuji smile beneath his lips, and he still is once Chikara pulls away.

“Not that I don't love all this,” he says, moving his hand in a circle around the table, “'Cause I do, obviously. But don't you wanna know what happened?”

“Eventually. Come on, eat first.” He sits down opposite him, prepares a bagel and passes it over.

Yuuji looks at it as if it's sprouted horns, before smiling, shrugging, and eating it.

  


11pm

Yuuji claps his hands together and surveys the empty plates. “Right, since you made food, I'll wash up and make a hot drink.”

“I didn't _make_ food, I toasted some bagels.”

“More than I did.”

“You always cook. Just leave it for tomorrow.”

Yuuji stands and starts piling the plates. “It won't take a minute.”

He tries to grab him by the waist, but Yuuji pulls away.

“Let me fucking do it!” he lashes out. He bangs the remainder of the cutlery on the top plate and storms back into the house, slamming the French door behind him.

Chikara curses himself for not following Yuuji's lead.

  


11.30pm

He finds himself waiting again, but at least this time he can hear Yuuji from where he is. He fishes his phone out and fires off a quick message to Keiji thanking him again for his help.

“ _You can stop thanking me now. Is Yuuji okay?_ ”

“ _Yeah. I think so. Up and down._ ”

Yuuji slips back onto the balcony as he types. He says, quietly, “Okay. We definitely need to talk about it.”

“It's alright.”

“No, it's not!” His voice raises again, but he tries to level it. “Hmph. I appreciate the support, but it's not really alright, is it?” He pulls his chair closer to Chikara's, and lightly holds his fingers with his fingertips.

“I...don't really know what you want me to say, to be honest.”

“Me neither.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I need you to...agree it's not alright. But also support me.”

He waits for a minute, rubbing Yuuji's wrist. “Yeah, I don't. I don't really understand.”

“Right. One, it's not alright for me to go missing. Even though it's not my fault if I get triggered.”

“Triggered?”

“Yeah. Okay. Fuck. Right.”

Chikara can see he's struggling and doesn't want to pressure him, but can't see how he'll ever move on from one-word sentences unless he helps somehow. "Tell me about Friday?"

“Ah. I thought Bobata told you.” He sighs. “Something happened. It was a massive trigger.”

“That's the bit I don't really understand.”

“So like, it's what sets off the desire to do the thing again. In my case, it was something that made me want to get trashed.”

“Can I ask what it was?”

“Yeah...”

Chikara looks down at their hands, now gripped together, and squeezes tighter. “I'm listening.”

“I had an appointment in yesterday at twelve. Nice bloke. Gave him a haircut. Nothing weird yet. Then his girlfriend came to pick him up.” He looks up at Chikara. “You know that photo of me lying on the car? And I said I couldn't remember whose it was?”

Chikara does remember and knew full well at the time it was a lie. “Yeah.”

“I knew exactly whose. It was Louise's. She was with me that night I...made fun of Keiji's hair. We haven't really talked about her yet, but she was the last girl I had anything to do with. She's the _reason_ I don't have anything to do with girls, in fact.”

He vaguely remembers the girl Yuuji had his arm around all those years before. She was tall, mainly legs and hair, as he recalls. “Did she remember you?”

He snorts. “Nah. It was a while back and well, she's pretty fucking self-obsessed. She just sat waiting for him without really looking at anything else in the shop.”

“But you recognised her?”

“Yeah. Brought back all those feelings from years ago. I mean. I've been triggered like this before, but in the last year or so, I've never acted on it. I've even had an alcoholic drink here or there and managed to stick to one. Probably part of the problem. Getting over confident.”

Chikara tilts his head. “It's good that you're getting more self-confident though.”

But Yuuji shakes his head. “Yeah, that's good, but. This is something called 'pink cloud syndrome'. Basically, I've not been putting in enough effort 'cause I'm not taking my addiction seriously any more.” He drinks the last dregs of his cold drink. “I need to start going to my meetings regularly again. Been a bit too busy being happy.” He smiles up at Chikara, who can't smile back.

“Have you been missing them cause of me?” he says with a frown.

“No! Well. Kind of.” He looks embarrassed and watches his hands twist in his lap. “I think I thought I was okay now I had you. But love's not a magic cure.” He looks up, smiling again. “It's pretty fucking close, but I still need to work to stay sober.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no. I don't want an apology. I feel bad enough putting you through all this already.”

“It's worse for you...”

His voice is tinged with exasperation bordering on annoyance as he says, “Stop being so bloody nice, I haven't finished yet.”

Chikara tries to smile, but there's a threat of a snap in the air.

“Instead of talking about it with Bobata or something, I went out drinking. Went to a pub I don't go to any more, met up with some old buddies. That led to coke. Like it always does.”

Chikara listens, but he has no frame of reference for any of this. He can't even begin to guess where these pubs are where people who know Yuuji's past hang around, with cocaine seemingly in handy supply.

“Then what happened?" At some point, he's dropped Yuuji's hand and becomes aware of the absence. He tries to twine their fingers together again, but Yuuji resists.

“Once they eventually threw me out – they always throw me out when I start getting mouthy – I stayed over at someone's. Next day I felt like such a twat, I got into a downward spiral. Hating myself. I didn't take any more drugs. Well, I didn't have any left anyway, but I didn't want them. Had a few more drinks. Eventually it was dark and I ended up at the park. The leaves looked comfortable, so I lay down in them and fell asleep.”

“This place you stayed...”

“I chose somewhere you wouldn't think to ring. Someone not in my address book.” He points at him. “Which I know Bobata gave you, by the way.”

“Who?”

He sighs. “You know that bloke with green hair from The Junction?”

“The Snake?”

“He's called Daishou. I do his hair. He didn't ask any questions when I turned up there. I don't think. I can't really remember. Thank God he was working. Although...” He looks at Chikara, with a tilt of his head. “I – I think I might have come onto him.”

“Oh." Chikara stops trying to hold his hand and wraps his arms around his knees instead.

“Nothing happened. I promise. I didn't even kiss him. Cocaine...it makes me really horny. Sorry. I'm not proud of it. Of any of this.”

Chikara nods silently, not trusting himself to speak. All he can think is that while he was texting Yuuji saying goodnight, and telling him he loved him, he was off trying to sleep with someone else.

“He gave me the spare room and loads of water to drink. He was really nice next day. Think we've all misjudged him. He has a lovely girlfriend you know, she made me breakfast. Incredibly sweet girl. Good coffee."

Chikara's fury rises. Yuuji's matter of fact way of revealing he was casually enjoying hot drinks with a friendly couple, while he was running around the village buying cigarettes and crying, makes him feel the angriest he ever has. Somehow, it's replaced every scrap of worry he had remaining.

“Why the fuck didn't you call me? While you were drinking your lovely coffee with Daishou's lovely girlfriend?”

Yuuji jumps at the volume of his voice, before matching it with his own. “Fuck's sake! You really think we were sitting around drinking lattes? Talking about the weather or...or...doing the fucking crossword together?

“I don't fucking know! Sounds like it.”

“I can't believe you'd think that! You twat.” He points angrily into his face. “You want to know what they were _actually_ doing? They were talking me out of killing myself.”

The colour drains from his face. “What?”

“Yeah! So...I didn't want to tell you that, but if you're going to be an arsehole about it...” He stands and goes inside to a drawer in the dresser and fishes out a packet of cigarettes. He angrily fumbles one from the packet and lights it up, before taking a long drag. He leans on the railing of the balcony, avoiding Chikara.

“Can I have one?” Chikara asks quietly.

He turns to stare back at him. “You don't smoke.”

“Neither do you.” He looks at him, straight faced and challenging, almost daring him to deny him the cigarette. Yuuji gives in, and passes the lit cigarette over, and lights himself another one.

The first drag burns his throat. He doesn't want to admit he can't finish it after making such a fuss about having one. His head swims a bit, and bile starts to rise.

He coughs, and takes another aggravated drag, before stubbing it out in Yuuji's plant. Yuuji looks at the stub, and then back at Chikara, who just leans next to him on the balcony with his arms crossed.

Yuuji walks over and removes the stub, putting it inside the empty elderflower bottle. He leans against the railing again, lifts Chikara's hand away from his body, and grips it.

They look at each other and Yuuji is first to smile, sadly. “Sorry.”

He feels a bit whiny as he says, “I understand ignoring everyone else. But why didn't you answer _me_?”

“My phone was off.”

“ _Why_?”

He strokes Chikara's palm with his thumb as he speaks. “You'll never get it. Because you're not an addict. Look. When I'm not sober, I'm not me. I don't want the people I care about to see it or deal with it. I can't afford to lose anyone else. So I turn my phone off and ignore them.” He sucks on the cigarette, and his eyebrows knit as he tries to find the words. “Ignoring them hurts them as much as shouting at them, but it's easier to forgive someone who hasn't called you a c-word.”

“You could have texted me so I knew you were...alive.”

“Do you think I don't get it? I hurt you. I'm sorry. This is what I meant by agreeing it's not alright for me to behave like this.”

“But if you'd just told me what was going on...”

“I was an incoherent twat. And then when I sobered up, I wanted to die. Believe me, you don't want calls or texts from either of those people.”

“Yuuji! Fuck's sake! I'd have understood. Or tried to. If I'd known you were alright, I'd have...”

“Tried to find me?” He rubs his shoulder “Honey, I didn't want finding. I didn't want you to see me like that.”

“So what would you have done? If Kenma hadn't found you?”

“Gone home on Sunday. Texted you. I dunno, I'm not saying it makes sense.” Chikara moves his shoulder away in irritation. “See? It's not alright, is it?”

“No,” he sighs, “It's not.”

He strokes Chikara's fringe from his eyes. “You think you can forgive me? Eventually?”

“Obviously,” he grumbles. “I'm still not happy about it. But thanks for being honest.”

“This is why I need to go to meetings. I need help to not react like this again.” He takes a long drag, and an even longer look at Chikara. “I'd like you to come, too. If you could. It'll help you understand, I think.”

“Okay. I think I need to. 'Cause I don't understand. At all...” He starts to move away, but Yuuji grabs his hand.

“Chikara, look at me.” He does, begrudgingly. “Mental health is a selfish disease. It takes and it takes. And I'm sorry about that. It can make me seem like the selfish one. But when I'm like that, I do anything I can to distance myself.”

“Please. At least promise me you'll message me, or someone, _anyone_ , if it happens again.” His voice has lost a lot of its anger, becoming more of a plead.

“I can't promise you that.” He strokes his face gently with a small smile. “I'm sorry about that too. What I _can_ promise is that I'll try harder to prevent it happening again in the first place.”

“It was torture not knowing.” The tears are falling now, and Yuuji puts his cigarette in the bottle so he can pull him closer with both hands. “I mean, I know it was shit for you as well but...”

“You know,” he says into his hair, “I always feel embarrassed after a slip, and disgusted in myself. And sorry for causing trouble for Kazu and Haru. But...I never felt such...regret. That's the word. When I saw you. You were crushed. And I felt worse than I ever have.”

Chikara just sniffles into him, unable to deny how crushed he was. He feels a touch of guilt being the one comforted.

“Kazu told me what you were like yesterday.” He moves away and holds Chikara's face in his hands, tilting it upwards. He closes his eyes and Yuuji softly touches his lips to his eyelids. “I'll do everything I can to not cause that again. I love you, Chika. I can't bear it when you cry.”

His response of, “Love you too,” is quiet and hidden within the kiss Yuuji presses to his lips.

“I really do know that now. Not sure I'll ever doubt it again.”

 


	4. The following week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not reading sex, just skip Thursday

Monday, 7.35am

The sun rises, casting rays through a sliver of space where the curtains didn't meet the night before.

It alights on Yuuji's calf as it hangs from beneath the duvet, highlighting a few scratches from where he fell into a bush and has forgotten.

Chikara stirs, pulling the duvet around himself tighter. The action uncovers the rest of Yuuji's leg, and under the fog of sleep, he covers it back up.

Yuuji shuffles closer in his sleep, turning and tucking himself against Chikara. “Mornin'.”

“Hmm,” he replies without opening his eyes.

  
  


Monday, 9am

“Yuuji? Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Can I play you something?”

“It's the middle of the night,” he whines.

“It's nine. You'd be going to work normally.”

“Can't it wait?”

“Not any more.” He's waited long enough already to play him this song. He'd forgotten all about it the day before when everything else was happening, but now he thinks is the right time.

Yuuji stretches his arms above him, his toes towards the end of the bed, and his body is feline in its grace. “Better be fucking worth it.”

Chikara scrolls down to the right song in his phone. The speakers will make it sound tinny, and Yuuji is half asleep, but he wants to play this song anyway. They're close, it's warm, and there are no more tears.

“Okay. I was listening to music the other day. This song I haven't heard in years came on. And I don't know why, but somehow it made me think of you.”

Yuuji suddenly props his head up on one hand to look at Chikara. “Oh, my. This  _is_ fucking worth it.”

“I don't know if you'll...I don't...it might be insulting. I don't mean it to be!” Chikara is worried now, as Yuuji's face falls. He really wants to get across what he's trying to say. “I love this song, it makes me laugh, no matter how many times I hear it. And it's a lot sweeter than it sounds on first listen.”

“Wow. Well, you're really selling it to me.”

“Oh, shut up. Just listen. Please?”

Yuuji salutes, and sits up straight and cross-legged on the bed, facing him. He holds his ankles and waits patiently, like a schoolchild.

Chikara starts up the song he's been saving until Yuuji came back; the two-hundredth song.

The one he was reminded of just now as he lay watching Yuuji sleep. There was something in his expression, a contentment, a peace, that made him feel like he finally had him back.

Then once he'd remembered, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep, waiting for the tiniest shift in movement that might show Yuuji was awake and ready to hear it.

He also has a web page open with the lyrics, because the singer's accent is strong, and it took him a few goes to learn it after he heard it the first time. He passes it over as the song starts.

As his eyes scan the lyrics, Yuuji's smile begins to grow wider, until the chorus begins and he giggles and puts a hand in front of his mouth.

Chikara can't take his eyes off him. He knew he'd think it was funny, he needn't have been worried he'd take it the wrong way.

The last strains of the harmonica wilt away, Yuuji scoots forward into Chikara and holds him around the waist.

“I can't believe we have a _song_ , dude. I've never had a song!”

Chikara plays with his hair. “You okay with this one being ours?”

“Are you kidding? It's us in a nutshell." He pulls him tighter and leans into his chest.

“I thought maybe if you were having a bad day, you could listen to it, and it would remind you I love you.” He kisses the crown of his head where Yuuji is still pressed into his chest. “I mean. I don't really get it, what helps and what doesn't. But I want to learn and...I thought this song might help some of the time? When things aren't too desperate.”

Yuuji looks up at him with misty eyes. “You say you don't get it, but I think you do. Better than you realise.”

He leans up further and kisses him deeper. Chikara's arms snake around him, pulling him further into his lap. Eyes flutter closed, mouths open wider, and they lose themselves in each other for a while.

  
  


Tuesday, 1.30pm

Chikara looks at the item being dropped into the supermarket trolley he's pushing, then looks back at Yuuji, before looking back at the birthday cake flavoured Oreos now sitting next to the fresh fruit and vegetables.

“Oh. That reminds me. Your taste in biscuits is atrocious.”

Yuuji throws his head back with a short laugh. “What's wrong with them?”

“It was like being at a children's tea party.”

“What biscuits do you like? No, wait. Let me guess.” He steps back from the shelves of biscuits and starts looking at them appraisingly.

Chikara picks up the Oreos and looks at the back of the yellow packaging, tutting at the ingredients.

Yuuji points at him. “Something without much colouring or sugar, definitely.”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay, let me look at the boring biscuits no one else likes.”

“Hey!”

Yuuji sticks out his tongue and stands with hands on hips looking at the oat based selection. "I feel like it would be one of these."

Chikara tries to give nothing away, nervous at how close he is to the biscuits he was about to pick up, and how much Yuuji seems to know him. He isn't sure he would have known what biscuits Yuuji ate if someone asked him last week.

Eventually, he picks up two different packets, and Chikara is disappointed to see his favourite biscuits in one of Yuuji's hands.

“It's one of these. Definitely." He holds up the Hob Nobs, and peers at them. "These are boring enough...ah, but they're crumbly. You wouldn't like that. Little bits of oats in your teeth as well. No. It's not these." He throws the packet back on the shelf and gets a look of disapproval from Chikara.

“Oi, don't throw things around. I don't want to have to waste money on broken Hob Nobs. You're right, they're shit. I don't like oats.”

“I knew it. So, these ones then." He places a packet of biscuits in the trolley and then looks up at Chikara. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Chikara looks at the square packet of dark brown biscuits. They're small enough to fit in a tea cup, solid enough that they don't leave crumbs or get stuck in his teeth. They don't have too much sugar, flavoured instead with ginger. He nods in resignation.

Yuuji jumps and shouts, 'Booyah!' before running off to buy some ridiculous, sugary breakfast cereal. He'll try and guess Chikara's favourite cereal as well, but this time get it hopelessly wrong, because Chikara has been eating Coco Pops every day since he was a child.

The confession will make Yuuji kiss him in the middle of the cereal aisle; this time the only look of disapproval will come from a grumpy old woman buying porridge oats.

  
  


Wednesday, 8.15pm

There's a plate on the coffee table, with a selection of meats and cheeses they picked up while shopping. Next to it is another plate with crackers.

Yuuji picks up an oatcake and twists it in his hand, looking at it suspiciously.

“This shouldn't be called a cake.”

“Shh.” Chikara has been waiting to watch this film for a while, so when Yuuji suggested it he jumped at the chance.

“But it's not a cake.” He takes a bite. “Did you know, Jaffa Cakes are called cakes cause of tax reasons?”

Chikara pauses the film. “What?”

“'Cause if they were chocolate biscuits, there'd be more tax to pay. So they call them cakes.” He puts a huge lump of cheese on the oatcake and takes another bite, one which is more cheese than anything else, then talks through the mouthful. “But we all know they're not.”

“Jaffa Cakes aren't biscuits. They're soft.”

Yuuji looks at him, straight faced. “That's not what what makes it a cake or a biscuit!”

“Yes, it is! Soft biscuits are usually stale."

He peers at him from beneath his eyebrows. “Hmm. You have a point.” He chews some more, before pointing a finger upwards. “What about the size though?”

“It's just a small cake. If a Jaffa Cake was cake sized, it would definitely be a cake.” He points the remote control back at the television. “Now. Can we carry on?”

Yuuji brushes off his hands and lays with his head on Chikara's lap. "Okay."

Chikara continues the film, and his hands thread through Yuuji's hair as they watch it. Well, he watches it. Yuuji loses interest after five minutes and opens his phone.

After ten minutes, he says, “Ooh, pause the film! I have to tell you this!” The film stops, with a sigh. “Chikara, believe me, you'll want to hear this.”

“Is it proof I'm right?”

“Yes.” He then tells him about a court case, where the makers of Jaffa Cakes proved it was indeed a cake, by baking a large version of it.

Chikara tries not to be smug all night; then in bed, he hugs Yuuji from behind and whispers, “I told you it was a cake,” into Yuuji's ear. He receives an elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

  
  


Thursday, 11.20pm

Chikara cradles Yuuji's head in his hands, as it hangs off the edge of the bed. He leans over him, watching as he pants, eyes closed.

“Yuuji? Are you okay?”

“Yes...just..." His mouth hangs open, chest flushed pink and speckled with his cum.

“Shall I...” He starts to pull out, but Yuuji digs his heels into him, holding him still.

“No. Stay there. Please.” He leans up to peck a kiss, before letting his head drop back into Chikara's waiting hands. “Carry on.”

Chikara tries to thrust but has to move his hands to hold Yuuji's hips still. His head lolls further back and when he snaps his hips against him, his eyes open slightly; he can see they're rolled back in his head, before he closes them again.

He continues thrusting into him as he was before, any worries about Yuuji evaporated. He said he wanted him to carry on, so he does, until it's him reaching his peak. He pulls out and wraps his hand around the two of them, moving it up and down.

Yuuji groans at the touch, over sensitive by now. Chikara puts one hand back behind his neck, holding him up slightly so he can kiss him as he rubs their cocks in tandem.

“I can't...no more.” 

Chikara releases him, carrying on pumping his fist only around himself, until he cums into his hand. He turns, looking for something to wipe it on, ending up using the bedsheets. He'll change them while Yuuji showers.

He pulls Yuuji back onto the bed and uses the sheet to wipe him down. He's boneless in his arms, still pink, still breathless, and he smoothes his hair away from his face as he leans over him again. Yuuji smiles up at him.

Chikara leans to kiss him and he responds after a beat, arms finally strong enough to circle his neck. His legs wind around Chikara's back again, pulling him down flush against him. Chikara leans, pulling Yuuji with him so they're both lying on their sides and everyone can breathe more easily.

Eventually the kissing becomes too lazy to even continue, so they just hold each other instead.

“We have to do it that way round more often,” Yuuji decides, just before he falls asleep.

  
  


Friday, 1.30pm

“Hajime!”

“Hey! Long time no see. Did you...” He stops as Yuuji walks in behind him. “Ah. You did.”

Chikara smiles and nods as Yuuji takes a seat by the window. “Can we get two coffees, some of your tofu, and a salad please.”

Hajime tips a finger to his head and starts grinding the beans, so Chikara puts down some money and joins Yuuji. He's staring out of the window, so Chikara decides not to disturb him. He knows the morning has been difficult.

He takes his phone out instead and turns it back on. The first thing they were asked to do was turn off all devices. He sees Yuuji already has his out and back on, but he's not looking at it; he's still watching cyclists outside flying past.

The coffee arrives and once Hajime walks away again, it becomes obvious this is what Yuuji was waiting for. “Was it okay?”

“Hmm?”

“The meeting.” He adds sugar to his coffee and tests it. “Was it what you expected?”

“Kind of.” He hadn't really had any idea of what to expect, so it's not strictly a lie. He drinks his own coffee, black without sugar, and screws up his face. “Actually, I thought everyone would have to say, 'Hello, I'm an addict,' or something.”

Everyone had sat in a circle as he thought they would, but only people who wanted to speak did so. Yuuji didn't say a word, although he did talk to the person running the meeting at the end. He introduced him to only one other person, a man called Tora with a blonde strip of hair. They seemed old friends, and on the walk to the cafe, Yuuji told him they'd been in the same recovery group for a while.

“What didja think to Tora?”

“Yeah, he's cool.”

“I'm thinking of asking him to be my sponsor. Would that be okay with you?”

“Yeah sure.” They're interrupted by Hajime bringing the food, which gives him time to think about what he'd said. “Why would I have a problem?”

“Well, usually they ask you to choose someone of the same gender, but it's an old-fashioned rule and to do with not getting a crush on your sponsor. But, ya know, I'm not straight, so there's that...” He bites into a piece of tofu and hums. “Good as ever.”

“So would it be better to have a woman?”

“Nope. I don't trust many women.”

“You're not planning to fall in love with him are you?” he half-jokes.

“Apart from the fact he's straight – and totally in love with one of the few women I definitely trust – I'm besotted with you, my sweet.” He shoves a forkful of salad into his mouth, grinning with a piece of rocket stuck to his chin.

Chikara leans forwards and takes it off for him. “Glad to hear it.”

  
  


Saturday, 9pm

Chikara closes his eyes and shrugs his shoulders to his ears as he hears yet another clatter from the kitchen.

“Sorry!” shouts Bokuto, followed by a giggle from Yuuji.

“We never should have let them wash-up,” Akaashi says, drinking some of his juice. Yuuji insisted on getting the wine glasses out so it seemed like a real dinner party, even though they asked Akaashi not to bring any alcohol.

“I told him I'd do it. He did the cooking.”

“You landed on your feet getting together with someone who cooks, didn't you?”

Chikara nods. The pair of them have always existed on a diet of whatever food was cheapest, cooked for them, or most convenient. Over the years, neither of them have really got any skills beyond stir fries or salads.

“He used to cook for his mum all the time. When it was just the two of them and she was sick.”

“He cooks every day for you both?”

He nods again. “He makes wonderful fish. There's this salmon thing with lentils he does. He says it's easy, but I love it.” He smiles and his head drops a little.

Akaashi also nods, deep in thought. There's yet another tinkle, this time it sounds like glass, and Yuuji shouts, “My bad!”

“Yuuji! Not the wine glasses!” He stands up and goes over. “We only just got those!”

“Sorry! There's still another five though, right? You think we'll ever need six all at once? I don't.” He kisses his cheek. “Hey! Why don't you get the dessert out, since you're here?”

He goes to the fridge to find the cheesecake. Yuuji used the Lotus biscuits they bought the other day to make the base, which led to a discussion about how lucky they were Chikara liked boring biscuits.

 

(“You couldn't have made that base with pink wafers or jammy dodgers.”

“I could, and I have.”

“I bet that was disgusting.”

“It was delicious. Everyone agreed.”

“Were you all high?”

“No doubt.”)

 

He holds it high in the air balanced on one hand and pulls open a cupboard door to fetch four plates. Yuuji puts four spoons on top of the plates as he passes, then looks at the large knife in his other hand. “I guess I'll bring this through.”

“I'm not holding it in my bloody teeth.”

They share a kiss, a smile, and in the background, Bokuto makes a loud, theatrical sigh. "Ah, you two are so sweet. Keiji! Aren't they cute?"

“Yes, Kou,” he says from the doorway, taking the knife from Yuuji. “Adorable.” He walks back out to the table in the living room, followed by Chikara and the dessert.

Akaashi starts cutting the cheesecake, sliding portions onto the plates and then putting them in front of chairs around the table. “So. You two are getting on well.”

“Yeah. It's getting easier.”

“I had something to talk to you about. I think we should talk now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sits behind his plate, Chikara joining him on the seat at right angles to him. “The lease on our flat comes up in January. I've been thinking.” He turns the plate, not taking his eyes off it. “I think...I think Koutarou and I might live together.”

“Really? Wow! That's amazing!” He leans and hugs him. “Keiji, I'm so happy for you!”

“Thank you,” he says, patting him on the back before he sits up again. “I was worried about leaving you. Especially last weekend.”

“I'll be fine, I can afford that place on my own. Maybe get Kenma to rent the other room or something." He looks at Akaashi and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Man, this is so grown-up. Living together! He's so the one."

“He is. I'm sure of it.”

Chikara has to try and stop himself from tearing up. Akaashi is like a part of his family (if you forget about the sex) and Bokuto is genuinely one of the nicest people he's ever met.

“Before they come through, I want to say something. I think you should try living here properly.”

“What?”

“You belong here. It's so obvious. The house is full of your things.” He gestures around the room, to the shelf of films, the pile of magazines, his spare glasses, things that never existed in this space before. “I hardly see you at weekends. Apart from anything else, you two really are cute together. He adores you, he can cook, and you're so happy these days.”

“It's too soon for that...”

“No, it isn't. Stop being so Chikara about everything! You know he wants you to. Bobata said so, right?"

He remembers. He's also not sure he should trust someone who probably wasn't thinking straight when he said it, and then he feels terrible about judging his boyfriend's state of mind.

“Until he says it to me, I don't know that for sure.”

“He never will either. You know he won't. And you know exactly why.”

This would have been true before he went missing, when Yuuji couldn't seem to ever be certain Chikara loved him. “I think he probably would now...”

“No, he wouldn't. He can't risk the rejection. You need to bring it up.”

“Leave it, Keiji. They'll be back in a minute.” He's starting to feel irritated. It seems to him like Akaashi is trying to tie up loose ends, not thinking about what might actually be right for him and Yuuji

“Okay.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I'll stay out of it.”

By the time Bokuto and Yuuji finally return, nudging and shushing each other, Chikara and Akaashi have clean plates and haven't said another word.

  
  


Sunday, 12.40pm

“Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise, Chika. Stop asking.”

The taxi winds down a narrow road he doesn't recognise, covered over with a canopy of trees. He's not sure what type of tree they are, because they don't have their leaves any more. December is looming, after that January, and Chikara hasn't been able to stop thinking about the question of his lease.

After Akaashi and Bokuto left, he thought about talking to Yuuji; but everything was so peaceful, comfortable, snuggled on the sofa talking about how much he liked the food, how proud he is of him for managing his first week so well. He didn't want to ruin it talking about moving in if Yuuji wasn't ready for it.

Then that morning, he made the pancakes he'd been promising for a week, while Yuuji chopped the fruit they bought at the supermarket. They drank leftover juice from the night before and snacked on some cheese from film night. As they ate, Yuuji talked about the meeting again, they discussed Tora and what days they could meet.

It was like he was already living with him; was it really such a stretch to talk about it?

In the end, he just couldn't do it. Yuuji was doing so well, he didn't want to cause any unnecessary ripples, even if it meant everything stayed a little too stagnant. Maybe stability was more important than changing too many things.

“You're quiet.” Yuuji leans across the back seat of the taxi and takes his hand. “Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Not looking forward to going back to work, you know.”

“We should send Daichi something. Flowers maybe?”

“What is it with you and flowers?” he laughs. “I think maybe beer or chocolate. He's not really a flowers kind of guy.”

“That's why I send them. 'Cause no one sends men flowers and we like 'em as well.” He crosses one leg over the other, rubbing Chikara's leg with his foot. “Might want to log that detail for a special occasion.”

He does, of course, as well as moving his hand to rub up Yuuji's thigh, now hidden from the driver behind his crossed knee.

  
  


Sunday, 2.30pm

“So, what do you think?” Yuuji asks, grasping the hand closest to him with both of his and grinning.

Somehow they've managed to get the same taxi driver to take them home, making Chikara wonder if he's noticed how much more quiet he is now. Yuuji is babbling excitedly, explaining how he got the appointment, where he saw it advertised, that he showed Bokuto the photograph in the kitchen and he's excited that someone he knows might soon own a dog.

All Chikara can think is that he could lose out to a beagle if he doesn't do something.

“What will you do with her? While you're at work?”

“That's the beauty! I can take her to work with me. She can stay in the staffroom.”

“Is that hygienic?”

“She's probably cleaner than Haru,” he says with a grin, dropping his head onto his shoulder and looking out of the window. “I get a good feeling from her. I've always wanted a dog, you know that. I think...I think she could be good for me. Tora says he has a friend who got a dog, never been happier. Kept him on the wagon.”

Chikara thinks about how Yuuji said only a week ago that he wasn't enough to keep Yuuji on the wagon and can't help but feel affronted. Why could a dog do what he can't?

He thought he made Yuuji happier than he's ever been. Why was he looking for something else?

He looks out of the other window, as Yuuji lists some names he likes.

  
  


Sunday, 6.55pm

Chikara stands in the living room packing his belongings into his bag, ready to go back to his flat after work the next day. Yuuji keeps picking things back out of it again and throwing them to the floor, telling him to throw a sickie.

“I've been off all week, love, I can't take more time off.”

“Daichi won't mind. Stay with me, work from ho – from here.”

“Were you about to say 'home'?”

He walks away with a wave of his hand, saying, “Simple mistake,” but it's  _too_ light, too airy, to be anything other than forced.

He stops putting things in the bag and follows him. "Wait." He puts out his hand, grabs his shoulder, and spins him round. Yuuji looks as if he's trying not to cry. "What's wrong?"

“I'm going to miss you. That's all.”

“I'm not going far. You can come into town.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Not yet. Not on my own.” He puts his arms around Chikara and rests against his chest. “I'm not strong enough yet.”

“You're plenty strong enough...”

“No. I'm strong when I go out with you. Can't do it on my own yet.”

Chikara strokes his hair and holds him, thinking. He smells like birthday cake, he knows he must have snook one of the Oreos out of the packet while he made the dinner, currently waiting in the oven for the timer to go off.

He knows why he chooses these biscuits, that cereal; it's the same reason he wears those loud shirts, tells stupid nob jokes. Underneath the playful veneer, he's still that frightened son of a sick, single mother, who had to learn to take care of himself when there was no one else to do it.

“Is that why you want a dog?” he whispers. “Will you feel better going out and about with her?”

He doesn't speak or lift his head, just nods against Chikara.

“Is it because I'm going back to my flat as well?”

He nods again. “Not that I'm replacing you. She wouldn't be a patch on you. It's been so nice having someone at home, waiting for me. When I saw her online, something clicked.”

Something clicks with Chikara as well.

“What if...What if I was waiting here?”

“Well, that would be better of course, but...”

“No. I'm saying, what if I moved in?”

“But you don't want to.”

He sighs with exasperation and flicks Yuuji on the nose. “Yes I do, you wanker. Why are you making this so hard?”

“That's what she said.”

“I take it back. I'm not moving in.”

Yuuji throws himself at him, kissing him, before holding him at arm's length to smile at him. “Really? You want to?”

“Against all my better judgement, I think I'd like nothing more than living with you.” He kisses him again, before lifting him up and putting his legs around his waist. They make their way to the bedroom and Yuuji gets his own way, getting a replay of Thursday evening.

  
  


Sunday, 8.30pm

They manage to catch the lasagne before it burns too badly, Yuuji turning off the oven while still wearing only a bedsheet. He picks away the worst of the edges and takes it down to the bedroom, where they both shovel it down.

Chikara connects his phone to the speakers, starting up the playlist from the weekend before. He scrolls through and finds their song. Yuuji calls him cheesy for playing it, but smiles and kisses him anyway.

“I put it on for a reason.”

“I thought it was just a celebration of us living together.”

Chikara shakes his head. “No. I've been thinking. I think we should name our dog after this song.”

“Our...dog?”

“You forgot already? The beagle we met earlier." He eats another fork of pasta, keeping a straight face. It's hard, because Yuuji looks so delighted.

“Yeah, I remember, but...if you're moving in I...”

“You've always wanted a dog. You like her. Nothing's changed.”

“But...you're moving in.”

“You keep saying that. It's not an either/or situation. It's not me or the dog. She can go to work with you, I can be here waiting at home. Or we can come home, all of us together. Whatever. You don't have to choose.”

Yuuji's fork clatters to his plate and he begins sobbing into his hand. “I don't deserve you.”

Chikara moves to hold him and starts singing their song. “'You think that you're not good enough for me, and it's true, but I like you anyway.'”

Yuuji laughs, wipes the snot from his nose with the back of his hand, and smiles. “So. Should I pick up Veronica tomorrow?”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their song is ['Veronica' by Sultans of PIng FC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Vuovw5uHcA)
> 
> Thanks to Andy for telling me not to write this, and then letting me, but only if I gave them a dog.


End file.
